Melancholia
by partypantscuddy
Summary: Every year for the past four years they've been doing this. Set after series finale.


_So I had originally started writing this story in May of 2011 and never finished it. I was going through my old phone in desperate need of entertainment and found it, and decided to try and finish it. So here it is. I apologize in advance if it makes you cry – if it makes you feel any better, I sobbed hysterically while writing it – no? It doesn't? Oh, okay. I'll try to update ATB and NWTL soon, but my computer broke, and I'm currently using my ma's and sometimes she doesn't let me use it in the middle of the night, but we've got this shitty laptop that has no internet, but gives me access to openoffice. (Actually used it to write this story) So we'll see what happens. In the meantime, enjoy._

* * *

When two people care enough about each other, the rest of their world ceases to exist. They try their hardest to make it work, to keep the other happy. They are willing to open themselves up to someone else on a raw and emotional level. They are willing to accept their wrongs and learn to admit it. But that was not the case for them. She knew that it did not apply to them.

They cared _too _much, so much that it was almost obsessive and clearly unhealthy. So much that even years later there was no denying the love between these two souls had tried their HARDEST to make it work and had failed was still there.

Years later and he still loved him. After everything she knew she would always love him. After watching him plead guilty in court and seeing him taken in, after leaving town and resigning from her position at the hospital, a position she had worked so hard to get, she still loved him. And she knew that he still loved her too, because if he didn't they wouldn't have kept doing this.

For her there had been others after him. Nothing serious, no one she would bring home and allow Rachel to meet. He had been the last she would meet. There would be no mistakes of allowing someone into her child's life when they weren't going to be around for long.

They were never around for long. The longest had lasted six months. She had broken it off because she couldn't do it anymore. The longest had also been her last. The others were nice. They gave her comfort and made her feel loved when she was with them, but they weren't him.

For him she had been his last. There would be no more relationships after her. There would be no more giving his all after her. No one could ever win his heart over after her. It was and always would be hers.

They met once a year. She was always single at that time of year, she made sure of it. Adultery was not something she wanted her name slandered with. It wasn't something he wanted her to be slandered with either. She was a firm believer in monogamy. He had never cheated on anyone, he never would either, but he had been the other man.

He was gentle with her. He had always been gentle with her, but she savored it more now. It reminded her of the first time, how passionate it had been, how loving and full of promise and desire. Now though, the passion was stronger. Stronger because it was known by both that they could not be together. Stronger because the desire burning within them would never burn out.

* * *

It was half past two. He was running late and his phone had died. He'd told her he would be there by noon. It was her turn to book a hotel room. They had been doing this for four years now. Wilson had been dead for five.

House had turned himself in for fraud the day after Wilson's funeral. He'd used the money he had stored away and paid the best lawyers in the country to get him a decent sentence. He'd been sentenced to six months, because the judge had just lost his wife to cancer.

She'd been there, Cuddy, at the funeral, slapped him, and walked away afterwards. He'd been shell shocked at first, but afterwards had honestly not cared at all. He was too wrapped up in the fact that he had lost his best friend, the one person who hadn't abandoned him when the rest of the world seemed to not give a damn.

The funeral had ended, everyone had filed out, and he had remained. That was when he had felt the hand on his shoulder. He had looked behind him to find her standing there, looking as great as ever, but he really didn't care in that moment. He'd heard her say something, but he was too lost in thoughts to really hear her. Before he knew it she was helping him up, giving him to his apartment. His leg had been too worn and he had run out of pills. She had helped him upstairs and inside. That had been when he'd pulled her against him and kissed her. She had relented.

Now here they were, five years later.

* * *

He was two and a half hours late. He wasn't answering her text messages. She was sitting on the bed in the hotel room she had booked, almost on the verge of tears. He had finally given up on her.

She had wondered how much longer this could continue, how much longer they could string each other along before one of them got tired of it. Obviously four years had been long enough for him. She stood, grabbing her bag and making her way towards the door. She pulled it open and gasped, completely taken aback at finding him there.

She must have looked upset, because his face turned to one of concern as he loomed over her. She stepped aside, and let him in, still not believing that she had been wrong, and he hadn't gotten tired of it, of her.

"You okay?"

She didn't answer as she shut the door behind her. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. He held her, and she heard him try to speak, but she reached up and pressed a finger to his lips.

"Don't talk, just hold me." She said quietly, resting her head against his shoulder.

She was acting strange, and it scared him. He never held her like this until they said their goodbyes, promising to meet again the next year on the same date. This was not part of their dynamic.

He feared the worst, that she had finally decided to cut him loose, that she had finally found someone who _could _replace the gaping hole he had left in her heart.

He was standing not far from the bed, and he held her against him as he took a few steps back sitting on the bed and pulling her into his lap.

"You're ending this aren't you?" He asked quietly, resting his chin on top of her head.

"No."

"Then what's wrong?"

He tilted her chin upwards so that he could look her in the eyes. There were tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.

"You were late... I...I thought you'd decided you'd have enough of it, that you couldn't do it anymore..." She replied almost inaudibly.

"You and I both know that I would never end it. Every important relationship in my life has been ended by the other person. Stacy, Wilson... You. I don't like change, why would I cause it?"

"You weren't answering my texts."

"My phone died."

He shook his head in disbelief at her. After all this time, a part of her still doubted her trust in him. He knew that he had fucked things up beyond repair between them, (or so he had thought) that was how they had gotten to this point where they would meet in secret, once a year. They said the things they could never have brought themselves to say to one another when they were together, the things they should have said but were too afraid to say them. They'd apologized for their wrongs, she for trying to change him after telling him she didn't want him to change, he for doing what no one had ever thought possible of him. It worked for them, because he had fucked things up so badly in the past that this was all they could do to placate the need of having the other in their life.

* * *

She was so stupid for thinking that he would not turn up. He was right, he was always right, he was never the one to end his relationships. If it had been up to him they would have still been together, because she knew she had meant that much to him.

Maybe that was why she had let him take her back into his bed after Wilson's funeral. Because she knew he needed her as badly as she needed him. But it wasn't. It was because she was being selfish, she had craved his touch in the two years since they had last seen one another prior to Wilson's death. She hadn't cared that he was vulnerable because he had just lost the one person who had never betrayed him, who had stuck with him when she had fled. All she had wanted was to get a taste of what she had been missing, not expecting to ever see him again after that.

And now here they were, five years later.

She couldn't remember how they had come to this arrangement, it didn't matter anymore. What mattered was the present, the moment they were currently in. She sighed, wringing her hands in her lap as she felt his hand take hers, running his thumb over the gold band on her left ring finger.

He had given it to her, the second year they had met up, right before they had said their goodbyes for that time.

"You actually wear it?"

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"Sort of."

"I've never taken it off. It helps repel unwanted guys from hitting on me... And you know...It's a reminder... of us. Do you take yours off?" She asked, knowing he had gotten a ring for himself. Their rings were to show others that they were taken, when in reality, they were both single, but could never give themselves completely to someone else.

"No."

She nodded, before reaching up to touch his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she rubbed her thumb against his scruff. Her hand left his cheek, and she moved both of her hands to the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to her own, so that their foreheads were touching.

"I love you, so much." She said softly, looking him in the eyes.

"I know." He replied, almost inaudibly.

She pressed her lips against his, her hands moving into his hair as his moved to her hips. They kissed until their lips were pink and raw, sweet nothings murmured between kisses in heated breaths.

* * *

He pushed her back against the pillows of the bed, their lips never parting. Her hands moved to his shirt, her slim fingers easily popping the buttons open, as he slipped off her blazer, finding beneath one of the v-cut blouses he had loved so much. He reaches for the hem of her blouse, pulling over her head. He's faced with her breasts, and kisses the top of each as she reaches between them and undoes his jeans. He stops for a moment and pulls them off before returning his attention to her, his hands already pulling off her skirt as his lips roam her neck, her fingers trailing along his spine. He felt her hand against his erection as she arched into him pulling his lower lip between her teeth and groaned.

He reached between them and pulled off her thong before his own boxers. He thrust into her and she moaned against his lips. He popped the front latch of her bra open and she pulled it off before her wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him.

He was gentle with her, he had always been gentle with her, but more so now that the memory of this moment would have to last him an entire year. Three hundred sixty – five days, five hundred twenty – five thousand, six hundred minutes until the next time he would be able to see her again. He was going to savor every second of it because it would be what would keep him sane when the loneliness would surely become too much and he would think of downing a bottle of pills, or using that gun he has and ending it all. Because seeing her again, even if it was just once a year, was what kept him alive.

He wanted more, but he could never ask for it. He knew that more would ruin their newfound dynamic. Their occasional phone calls and text messages, would never be enough, but he didn't want to risk losing what they now had after he had been so sure they would never get to a point like this.

He ran his fingers along her curves, wanting to memorize her body, to re-engrave it into his mind, as though it wasn't already engraved there. The curve of her hips, the dimples of her back, he traced his fingers along every inch of her he could reach as they continued their slow and rhythmic movements.

* * *

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he moved inside of her, his fingers sending shivers down her spine as they roamed her body. Their mouths are numb from kissing, and she doesn't care. The only thing she cares about is the current moment, and memorizing it, because it will have to last her an entire year. It'll be an entire year before she can feel his hands on her like that, and she knew that it would hurt like hell to say goodbye when they were finished, just as it had hurt the previous times. A year was too long of a wait to be without him, even if they kept in touch, hearing his voice through her cellphone was not the same as feeling his breath on her as he spoke words that were only meant for her to hear. It was not the same as being able to see him, or _feel _him. It wasn't enough for her, and it hurt because it was all they could have. Anything other than that would doom them, and she had already let him go once, and it had sent them both off the deep end, she didn't want to go through that again. That was behind them.

She could taste tears as she felt her body tense, and she didn't know whether they were hers or his. She felt her body begin to shake as she moaned into his mouth, her orgasm hitting her. He came not long afterwards, before pulling her into him. She pressed herself into him, and sobbed.

* * *

It was hard for him to keep himself together as she sobbed into his chest, the way she had since they had begun their arrangement. He ran a hand over his eyes to keep himself from breaking, because he didn't want to say goodbye again. It hurt like hell every time they went their separate ways, even if they were going to reunite in a year.

He had never told her how much she had meant to him while they were together. He hated himself for for that. She knew though because he had made it clear to her when they had started this. They had sat down and they had bared themselves to one another because now that they were no longer such a large part of one another's lives, it had seemed easier that way.

But the thing was, it hadn't. Knowing that their feelings would always remain, and that they both believed that once again they wouldn't be able to make it work made saying goodbye worse. That was why it had always ended like this.

* * *

She had stopped crying and was now simply clinging to his side, her head on his chest as his fingers rubbed her upper arms. She felt him kiss the top of her head, and sighed sadly.

"It's time isn't it?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

He simply nodded, and that was all she needed. She bit her lip, holding back the tears she didn't want him to see fall.

They redressed in silence, both lost deep in thought, both trying to not breakdown in front of the other.

"Give me your ring." He said simply.

"What, no."

"Give me your ring Cuddy, you'll understand why I'm doing this."

Reluctantly she gave it to him, and watched as he turned on the lap on the side of the table, showing the ring underneath the light. He motioned to her, and she joined him.

"When you're doubting what I feel for you, when you're doubting _this_, I want you to take off your ring, and look inside of it."

He handed the ring back to her, and she looked inside of it.

She had never noticed that he had gotten it engraved, and as she read the words inside of the ring she had been wearing for the past two years, she couldn't help but smile.

"_I lobe you 5-17-10"_

She slipped the ring back onto her finger and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He held her in his arms for as long as he could. He buried his face into her hair and inhaled her scent, hoping it would last him until they met again.

"I love you, so much." He whispered into her ear, holding her as close as he could.

"I know."

* * *

When two damaged people like these found someone who was worth it, after all of the struggles they had endured, to find someone who was willing to take them as they were, after fucking up the way they had, and to not be able to be with that person because of the fear that if they were to retry, it would permanently damage them beyond repair, passed the point of no return, the pain was unimaginable.

What they had was good, it was not what either wanted, but it would ensure that they would be able to see each other again, to say the things that needed to be said again. They wanted more, but would never tell the other.

They would continue this arrangement until the end of time, every time they said goodbye, the melancholia setting back in.

* * *

_I know it leaves a lot of questions, but that was the point. I may or may not attempt to write something based off of this in the future, it depends on the feedback I get. So let me know your thoughts in a review. _


End file.
